


Blue, Green, Orange

by loose_canon



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Because I'm Gay and I Say So, Engaged Allison & Renee, Falling In Love, Florist/Botanist Andrew, Flowers, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Moving In Together, New Employee Neil, Owner Renee, POV Andrew Minyard, Pining, She has a sleeve, Tattoo Artist Allison, hopefully lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-09-23 14:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20341282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loose_canon/pseuds/loose_canon
Summary: Andrew likes working at The Foxtail, a flower shop and houseplant store. He does not, however, like dealing with Neil Josten, the new employee with a distracting face and one million questions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my summer exchange fic for @ofmoonlilies. I loved your prompt for anything that involves fluff and flowers. I tried to make it as soft as possible and include your prompts for andreil, renison, a flowershop au, and a tattoo shop. It's been a weird week for me, so taking time to work on this was really nice. :) I hope you like it!!

Andrew arrived at The Foxtail just as rays of sun flicked over the horizon. He turned on the lights and began the morning rounds checking on the plants. A few years of working here had taught Andrew everything he didn’t learn in school: which plants needed to be closest to the light source, which flowers needed more time to bloom. The blooms held a silent peace, raising their heads slowly to the coming dawn, to Andrew’s presence. He could bring even the worst cases back to life if they stood a little chance. Andrew took his time, methodical but efficient. The cool soil was a familiar friend. He heaved new plants to the front room, lining them up in rows, stopping to feel over the leaves and check them for mealybugs and fungal infections, then retrieved a few more fifty-pound bags of potting soil from the storeroom.

Andrew was content with his job. It paid the bills, and he liked the routine, liked caring for living things and seeing his efforts pay off in new growth and opening petals. He was good at arrangements, too, at bringing surprising elements together. Even a garish flower could be elegant paired with a cluster of simpler blooms. Renee insisted that Andrew had a “predilection for beautiful things.” Renee could be such a sap sometimes, but Andrew’s all-black Maserati said she wasn’t wrong.

He took a smoke break in front of the empty storefront next to The Foxtail. The world was quiet for a few more minutes.

Andrew turned the sign on the front door to “open” and spied Renee pulling into the lot. Her hair was unmistakable, a bright white dipped in pastels. She added the colors a few weeks after Andrew started working for her. So people stopped thinking she was straight, she said. Andrew hadn’t commented beyond a grunt, but they became good friends soon after. He still called her “Rainbow Brite” sometimes, just to see if he could stir her up, but Renee was basically immune to Andrew at this point.

A bell tinkled above the door.

“I thought you left this morning,” he said. Renee lived in a spacious apartment above the shop and should have been well on her way to her meeting with a potential customer by the time he opened the store.

“I did, but I forgot to grab the event binder,” she said and snagged it from Andrew’s outstretched hand. “You’re the best. You know that, right?”

“Obviously. And you’re disgustingly chipper considering it’s the ass-crack of dawn.”

Renee looked both embarrassed and pleased. Her girlfriend Allison had proposed the weekend before and Renee had been practically glowing ever since. “Oh, Allison wanted me to remind you about her offer to introduce you to some of her friends. ”

“I can catch a dick whenever I want,” Andrew said. “And Reynolds’ taste in men is trash.”

“You know I’d never doubt your dick-catching abilities—” Renee said.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“—and don’t forget she’s friends with Neil.”

“Case in point,” Andrew said. Neil was a fucking disaster. “You can tell Yente I won’t be in need of her matchmaking services.”

“Did you just call my fiancée Yente?”

“Maybe.”

“I can still kick your ass, you know.”

It was true. Andrew picked up the land-line. “Hello, HR? I’d like to report a threat of violence by my employer.”

Renee broke and laughed. “All right, I’m going.”

She was halfway through the door when she turned back to warn him, “Don’t bully Neil while I’m gone, okay?”

“Never.” Andrew flapped a hand at her and began marking inventory. “Goodbye.”

Renee was a pain in Andrew’s side, but one he was willing to tolerate. Neil, on the other hand, was a pain that had been forced on him three months ago when Renee told Andrew she’d made another hire. Andrew hadn’t wasted his breath pointing out that they didn’t really need a third, but now he almost wished he had.

Neil swanned through the door a few minutes before his shift, a coffee in each hand.

“Hey,” Neil said and sat a cup in front of Andrew on his way to the backroom. He emerged again tying the strings of a bright orange apron around his waist. The apron declared  THE FOXTAIL  in bright white letters and clashed violently with Neil’s auburn hair. Andrew refused to wear the hideous garment. His all-black wardrobe was uniform enough and it hid the dirt just fine without turning him into a Halloween pumpkin.

Andrew felt Neil’s eyes on him as he tried the coffee. Huh. The man must have finally realized what Andrew meant when he said he likes his coffee with cream and a metric fuckton of sugar. Andrew ignored Neil and continued with inventory.

Neil soon turned his attention to a dish of succulents leaves he was trying to propagate and Andrew glanced up.

Andrew hated Neil.

Everything about Neil was distracting: his auburn hair and his ice-blue eyes, the bony knuckles of his hands, his warm brown skin—and not just because of the extensive scarring on his arms and face.

Andrew wasn’t in the business of wanting things he couldn’t have, and Neil was untouchable. He was cagey and private, and spent the first two weeks in near silence, only repeating the instructions Andrew or Renee gave him during training. Then the floodgates opened, and there was nothing about flowers, houseplants, or anything that grew from the soil that Neil didn’t want to know. Unlike Andrew, Neil wasn’t responsible for caring for the plants or putting together arrangements. Renee had asked Andrew to teach Neil the basics: dealing with customers, pricing, general knowledge of how to care for different kinds of plants. Neil never worked alone so either Renee or Andrew was always on hand to answer the more detailed customer questions. But Neil was insatiable and distracted, and Andrew wished Neil would shut up so he could think about literally anything else besides the intricacies of Neil’s face.

It was a typical Saturday at the shop, a few customers an hour, rarely more than one at a time. Andrew had finished most of Neil’s training, but the shop was empty and Neil had bugged him about peace lilies until he broke. Andrew waved Neil over to a few on a shelf and listed the basic care requirements. Neil appeared to be engrossed and Andrew couldn’t decide if he was more annoyed than he was pleased.

“Old ladies love them because they clean the air or whatever,” Andrew finished lamely. Neil inspected the peace lily in question then turned to Andrew.

“What’s the hardest plant to keep alive?” He caught Andrew with his blue, blue eyes.

“What kind of question is that?”

Neil shrugged and waited.

Andrew sighed. “Probably a fern. They need a lot of humidity, which shouldn’t be a problem in South Carolina, but air conditioners usually double as dehumidifiers around here. They need a lot of misting and attention.” Andrew wandered around the shop and looked at the assembled houseplants. “Well, that or an orchid.”

“I thought orchids didn’t need that much watering.”

“They’re touchy. They die easy if you water them more than once a week. And finding the right light is a pain in the ass. Too much sun turns the leaves pink and red, too little and the green goes dark. You can’t just shove them in a window every few days; it has to be consistent.” Andrew stopped in front of a particularly tall orchid and lifted a soft pink petal. He had struggled to grow his own orchid from seed but he’d figured it out eventually. “If you only have windows facing south or west, you’re fucked. They need humidity, too, enough to make the air sticky. And they’re disgustingly expensive.” Andrew ran his finger down the plant’s stem then stopped when he remembered Neil was right next to him.

“Why, you looking to blow a lot of money and kill something?” Andrew eyed Neil’s worn jeans and old grey t-shirt. “Not sure you could afford one considering you come to work dressed like that.”

“Your wardrobe is literally one color,” Neil said, voice accusing.

“You call  _ this _ color?” Andrew pulled on the shoulder of Neil’s gray shirt with a thumb and forefinger.

Neil batted Andrew’s hand away and looked back to the orchid. “Are they your favorite flower?”

Andrew paused. “Are orchids my favorite flower?” he deadpanned. “What are you, five?”

Neil crossed his arms and waited. The summer sun had added another dusting of freckles across the bridge of Neil’s nose and cheekbones. Andrew wanted to touch them, just to see, but he killed the impulse.

“I don’t have a favorite,” he said.

Neil snorted. “What kind of florist doesn’t have a favorite flower?”

“It’s just a job, Josten. It pays the bills.”

Neil wouldn’t drop it. “You could have any job. Why a florist?”

Why was Andrew a florist? His brother and cousin had asked him the same thing when he explained that no, he would not be using his botany and plant science degree to get a cushy industry job or to save the earth. He had told them to fuck off and mind their business. When Bee, his therapist, had asked, he’d told her he was good at it, and that was that. Neil, though, wasn’t getting either of those responses. Instead, Andrew arched an eyebrow and turned it back on the man. “Where did you live before South Carolina, Neil?”

For a moment, Neil looked surprised, then his jaw went still and he closed his eyes.

“The west coast.”

Andrew snorted. “Glass houses, Neil. Don’t hurt yourself fabricating your little lies.”

“Where I’m from has nothing to do with anything,” Neil said, though he looked less and less sure as he finished his sentence. “I like plants. I have a favorite flower. That’s why I’m here.”

Andrew ran back through every time he’d seen Neil look fondly at a flower, trying to guess which was his favorite before he realized what he was doing and brought that shit to a halt. He hated Neil so much. “I thought you were here to make me miserable.”

“I’m trying to learn, you asshole.”

“Then apply thine eyes, oh mysterious plant lover,” Andrew waved his hand airily, “as I disseminate the wisdom of the compost bin.”

The suggestion of a smile slipped through Neil’s irritation and Andrew felt himself wishing he could see it again.

Out back, Andrew showed Neil how they used food waste from nearby businesses and their own lunches to fertilize some of the growing plants. The exchange was neutral enough. When Andrew finished his demonstration, he stood and hip-checked Neil right into the compost bin. Andrew didn’t stop to watch but smirked at Neil’s furious yelling as he walked away.

Andrew heard Neil run up behind him and let Neil shove him forward. “You asshole!”

Andrew turned on his heel and Neil nearly crashed into him.

Neil righted himself, his mouth pressed tight in frustration. Andrew couldn’t help looking. It was such a good mouth.

“I’m not stupid, Andrew.” Neil actually sounded mad.

“That’s news to me.”

“Ha ha,” Neil said, his expression defiant. “I’m trying to learn here.”

“You wanted to know about the compost and now you have been enlightened.”

A bell tinkled from the front room.

“Better go greet that customer,” Andrew said. “Can’t leave the register unmanned.”

“Fuck you.”

“In front of the customers? I don’t think so.”

Neil rolled his eyes and swiped furiously at his jeans as he strode through the door.

Andrew sat on a chair and stared at the wall. He replayed the movement of Neil’s hands, the way Neil’s mop of auburn hair fell indecently over his eyes. Andrew had to get control of himself. He knew better than to look at things he couldn’t have. Neil was nothing and no one. Andrew would tell him what he needed to know and nothing else.

Andrew slipped through the door. A middle-aged man in a boring-ass suit, probably a cubicle drone, was paying for a basic bouquet.

Neil handed the man his change with a perfunctory “Have a good day.” Like Andrew, Neil wasn’t as enthusiastic about people as he was about plants.

“Thanks,” the man said and picked up his bouquet, but didn’t leave. “Say, what happened…with all that?”

Neil brushed at his apron and grimaced at Andrew. “Compost bin attack.”

“Oh, no, I mean your—” the main touched his arms and face where Neil’s scars were, “I don’t mean it badly! You’re a very nice-looking young man. I’m just so curious, I have to ask.”

Neil froze the moment the man touched his arms.

Andrew was there instantly. He put a firm hand on Neil’s upper arm. “Neil, be useful for once and double-check the liquid fertilizer stock, would you?” 

Neil’s eyes were far away, but he left without a word.

Andrew turned to the businessman and showed all of his teeth. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, uh—nothing,” the man said, shoving his free hand in his pocket.

“Perfect.” Andrew drew the word out as long as he could.

“Right.” The suit shuffled out of the store, only daring to look back for a split second.

Neil reappeared as soon as the bell stopped tinkling, wiping the compost from his jeans with a rag, expression still empty.

Andrew busied himself with counting the money in the register and carefully logged the amounts. He glanced up and found Neil watching him with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

Andrew grunted.

“Seriously, I can handle it. It’s not like no one’s commented on my scars before.”

Andrew faced him. “Would you like a round of applause?”

Neil’s expression was complicated. “I thought you hated me.”

“I do.”

“Then why—?” He motioned to the place where the man in the suit had stood.

“Some people need to learn to mind their business.”

Neil scanned Andrew’s face for something. Andrew held still, content to look back. Neil was a mess. Leftover mud streaked his arms, the clash between his apron and hair still violent. But Neil looked right here—like he belonged in this place, backed by green foliage, surrounded by clusters of soft-colored blooms. “Well, thank you, anyway,” Neil finally said, though it sounded more like a question than a statement.

Andrew gave him an incredulous look and grabbed a fistful of pens from a clay pot on the counter. He systematically uncapped each one and tested it on a pad of paper before recapping it and replacing it or tossing it in the trash. Andrew chanted to himself with each stroke. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. He’s nothing. When he ran out of pens, he tapped his fingers on the counter. They were short, calloused things. Band-aids wrapped around the base of his middle and ring fingers where he’d had an unfortunate altercation with a rose. Nothing like Neil’s fingers, long and elegant.

“You were right.” Neil’s voice forced Andrew back to the present. “I’m not from the west coast. I’m from Baltimore.”

Andrew’s chest clenched. “Tell someone who cares.”

“I thought you wanted to know.”

“I don’t want anything.” Suddenly Andrew couldn’t stand it anymore: the way Neil’s washed-out shirt hung from his shoulders, the apron strings tied around his waist. He couldn’t take the look on Neil’s face—open, attentive, curious. Andrew burned under it. “Go home, Neil. I have nothing more to teach you today.”

“I don’t get off for another hour.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t snitch to Renee.”

Neil started to take off his apron then paused. “Did I do something wrong?”

Andrew was going to shake him. “Do you always ask this many questions?”

“I do when I’m being dismissed from work.”

“No one’s dismissing you, you sensitive fuck.” Andrew rolled his eyes. Neil was going to be the end of him. “Fine. Stay if you must, just do it out of my way.”

Neil listened to Andrew for once and walked away.

Andrew watched Neil’s progress as he paced through the front room, checking the names of all the plants and reading the labels carefully. Neil was different when he was curious; he was vulnerable and unguarded. So different from the hesitant Neil who couldn’t say where he was from or why he was here, the one who was always on edge. Andrew liked seeing Neil this way, liked seeing how he unraveled once he was in the shop. Andrew knew what that was like.

Neil looked up like he could hear Andrew’s thoughts, but Andrew just turned away to study the little watering cans Renee had insisted they display on the wall behind the register. When it was time to go, Neil disappeared to put his apron up in the back room.

Andrew refused to look when Neil came back and found an orchid perched on the edge of the counter, potted and ready for him to take on his way out.

“Andrew, is this—?” Neil touched the orchid stem gently like he couldn’t believe something so delicate was his.

Andrew cut him off with a warning, “Don’t kill it.”

A few moments passed. “Sometimes I think you’re the only person I know who always tell the truth,” Neil said. “But then sometimes I think you’re the biggest liar I’ve ever met.”

Andrew didn’t have an answer to that. The bell tinkled and he was alone.

In his room that night, Andrew surveyed the plants he had acquired during his time working at The Foxtail. Hanging plants crept down his bookshelves and leafy palms sprouted from every corner. His plants had slowly colonized the tiny house he shared with his twin brother Aaron and cousin Nicky. Aaron had threatened to start killing them off and Nicky had started offering Andrew’s propagated succulents to friends Andrew had never met. Andrew laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Neil was probably printing out care instructions for orchids right then.

Andrew threw his pillow across the room, not caring for once if he toppled a plant and spilled the soil onto the carpet. Everything was already a mess.


	2. Chapter 2

Allison strutted into the shop like a very fancy giraffe, her tall frame exaggerated by spiky black heels and an artfully arranged pile of blonde coils on her head.

“Hey, bitch,” Allison greeted Andrew.

“Hey yourself, bitch.” They weren’t close, but after prolonged exposure, Andrew and Allison had reached a mutual understanding. If Renee was occasionally scandalized, she had only herself to blame. “Have you managed to cover every last square inch of your arm yet?”

Allison was a well-known tattoo artist, and she was picky about who she let ink her. Most artists were too lazy to learn how to tattoo dark skin, and Allison was an expert. She was currently filling out a sleeve of vibrant flowers, an homage to her future wife, and kept Andrew updated on the progress. “Almost. Here’s the newest addition.” She pointed to where her forearm met her elbow at a figure comprised mostly of eyes and wings, ink still fresh. It definitely wasn’t a flower.

“Self-portrait?” Andrew said.

“Angel, but old school, like Revelation.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Freaky.”

“That’s Christians for you.” Allison’s grin was devious. “Anyway, they’re supposed to be beautiful but terrifying.”

“Let me guess,” Andrew said, “like Renee.”

“Yep.”

Andrew's groan was interrupted by the tinkling of a bell as Renee pushed through the front door. “Speak of the devil.”

“You mean angel,” Allison corrected. She slung an arm around her wife-to-be and kissed her. Renee looked pleased.

Andrew got the feeling he was about to be hit with more sentimental shit. It wasn’t even eight yet for Christ’s sake.

“Out with it,” he said when they finished.

“We bought a house,” Renee said. She leaned into Allison who absently played with her fiancée’s hair.

“Amazing,” Andrew said. “It’s almost like you’re getting married.”

Allison threw him a look and he stared back.

“That also means the apartment is going to be vacant.” Renee gave Andrew a significant look. “I wanted to offer it to you, but I wasn’t sure if you would want to leave Aaron and Nicky. It’s definitely big enough for two, but three would be a tight squeeze.”

Oh. Andrew had known that Renee was going to have to move eventually, but he hadn’t counted on her asking him if he’d like to take her place. His mind moved into double-gear.

“Also,” Allison handed her phone to Andrew, “Neil sent me this extremely pathetic picture of his place last night.”

Andrew looked at the screen and wondered why he should care what kind of hovel Neil chose to live in. The picture showed a bed that looked small enough to be a twin or a single and a little nightstand on top of which stood a potted orchid. Judging from the angle of the picture, the room was only wide enough to accommodate the bed and nightstand and not much longer than the bed itself. The flower was the room’s only decoration. Nothing hung from the walls or cluttered up shelves. It looked...temporary.

“Charming,” Andrew said. “Neil really knows how to make a place homey. Do you think he’d do mine?”

“I’m offering the upstairs apartment to both of you,” Renee said, ignoring his comment. “Neil could really use a new place, but I doubt he can afford the rent by himself. You don’t have to live together. Either one of you could live there alone, but it would be more affordable that way.”

“So the roommate’s included. How generous of you. How exactly are you going to offer us an apartment you rent from someone else?”

Allison surveyed her nails. “I’m buying the building and turning the empty space next door into my own shop. I’m tired of the boys’ club at my old place. Too many egos to prop up.”

Andrew huffed. Allison was an accomplished tattoo artist and on her way to being an industry name. She dealt with endless hostility from men who didn’t think women, particularly ones that looked like Allison, could be serious artists. Allison handled all the bullshit with a fierce grace Andrew couldn’t help but grudgingly respect. Her PR training was evident and her disdain lethal.

But Andrew didn’t care that Allison was tall and rich and smart, or that her fiancée could beat him up. “Reynolds, if you’re plotting something, I will personally dismantle that new shop of yours.”

“Like I would plan my property investments around you,” Allison said.

“And are you or are you not betting on who takes the apartment?”

“Why wouldn’t we?”

Andrew couldn’t believe he was going to have to put up with both of them every day once Allison set up shop next door. “Please tell me the house you bought is very, very far away.”

“It’s not that far from yours, actually,” Allison said with a wicked grin.

Andrew groaned. “I’m going back to work and ignoring both of you.”

A consistent stream of customers kept both Andrew and Renee busy. Though Andrew didn’t think anyone—customers included—missed how Allison watched Renee work or how Renee snuck besotted glances at her fiancée whenever she could. Andrew was almost relieved when Neil arrived, hair wind-tousled and a small patch of sweat between his shoulder blades.

Well, fuck. Andrew had wanted Neil to ground him, not distract him, but that had been a flawed plan.

The good news was that Allison was also distracted by Neil. The two of them chatted in low tones, with Allison occasionally laughing while Neil grinned at some private joke. Andrew could see how they got along, how Allison listened seriously when Neil talked. Renee tried to draw Neil into conversation a few times, but he answered with one word or not at all and she let him be.

Soon everyone else had moved to the backroom and the customers left, and Andrew had a few minutes to himself. He retraced Neil’s steps around the showroom from yesterday, remembering the way the man had touched each plant. Andrew reached his hand out and went through the same motions, thinking about nothing but smooth stems, velvet petals. He focused on the pleasant mixture of smells, all fresh and quiet and calm. It was lilies. Neil hadn’t lingered by the potted clusters noticeably longer than the other flowers, but his expression had looked like a greeting. The way Neil had brushed his fingers under them was fond. Andrew knew the feeling and it hurt somehow to remember how it looked on Neil’s face. It looked like longing.

The picture Allison showed him of Neil’s apartment came to Andrew’s mind unbidden. Andrew shouldn’t care about Neil’s living situation. Andrew only cared about his people, his family—as worthless as the word was. Neil was still new, an unknown.

Andrew let himself imagine living above the shop, always close to his plants, stepping outside for a cigarette before descending the stairs and starting his day, and found he liked it. He imagined Neil there, too.

Andrew had promised himself years ago to never make the mistake of wanting again. He had other people to protect. He already had somewhere to live and people to live with. It was settled.

Until it wasn’t. Renee pulled Andrew to the side before she and Allison left and lowered her voice so only Andrew could hear. “Think about the apartment, okay? I’d feel better knowing you were here in case anything happened. Since I won’t be.”

“Appealing to my protective streak, Walker?”

“Just explaining,” Renee said, calm as ever. “Promise you’ll at least consider it?”

“Fine.” He would consider it for at least 2 seconds and then realize that putting himself in the line of Josten’s ice-blue eyes and endless questions was a form of cruel and unusual torture.

Renee accepted Andrew’s agreement, then she and Allison swept out of the store to attend to other business.

Neither Neil nor Andrew brought up the apartment in their absence.

They dealt with customers as they came. When things slowed down, they stocked the displays and checked inventory. The ready-to-buy arrangements were running low so Andrew let Neil watch him start a new bouquet. He chose classic roses and some lily of the valley for the base then handed it to a confused Neil to finish as best he could.

“What if it sucks?” Neil said.

“Then it sucks.”

“And you’ll just use it?”

“I won’t have to if you put together a good bouquet.”

Neil chose his flowers carefully. He studied each option for several minutes, eyes darting to the potential addition and back to the bouquet. Andrew watched Neil work, painfully aware of the way his forehead creased in concentration, of the slant of Neil’s jaw, relaxed and heavy. Neil was as lovely as the flowers in front of him, as complicated, as eager to grow.

Andrew’s chest tightened with a strange ache.

It was, all in all, not a great bouquet. And Neil knew it. There wasn’t enough color variation and the accent flowers were too showy. Neil frowned at the collection of flowers in front of him, clearly annoyed with himself. He looked up at Andrew, eyes hard.

“Well, are you going to fix it?” Neil said.

“Relax, Neil,” Andrew said, “the flowers can sense your fear.” Neil rolled his eyes, but his posture loosened a touch and Andrew counted it as a win. He brought over some lighter pieces, baby’s breath, some leaves, and helped Neil decide where to substitute them for the flowers Neil had chosen.

They passed the stems back and forth between them with slow precision. Andrew was painfully aware of the distance of Neil’s hands from his own, but he made sure not to touch him, and Neil did the same.

“You can have several different big flowers if you want,” Andrew said, “but they either need to be the only ones in the entire bouquet or they need support, something more delicate.”

“I’m not good at that—being delicate.”

Andrew looked up to study Neil’s face. Something worked in Neil’s jaw, and his ice-blue eyes were equal parts sad and angry. Andrew stifled the urge to reach out and smooth the crease between his eyebrows, to hold his jaw until it relaxed again.

“You can learn,” he heard himself saying, “I’ll teach you.”

Neil looked at Andrew for a long moment, his expression complicated. He nodded once. "Okay." Then he looked back down, already preoccupied with the flowers in front of him again.

Andrew cursed himself for his idiotic wording. What was he saying? Andrew didn’t know the first thing about being delicate. Though he wondered idly if he might be able to try, if Neil was involved. He was stupid. He hated Neil so much.

The ache did not go away.

At home that night, Andrew mulled over his options at the kitchen table, rolling a mug of hot chocolate between his palms. Neil didn’t seem to want more from Andrew than an education in flowers and houseplants. Andrew could give him that, could teach him everything he knew about being a florist, even if it wasn’t strictly part of the job. He doubted Renee would mind.

Nicky padded into the kitchen wearing a rainbow-speckled pajama set. Today’s set was white but he owned the same pattern in several other colors. Even when dressed more acceptably, Nicky didn’t look much like his blonde cousins. He mostly took after his Mexican mother, except for his height, which he lorded over the five-foot-even twins.

“What are you doing up so late?” Andrew said. Nicky told stories about being a legendary partier in college, but these days he was in bed by 10.

Nicky was all smiles, as usual. “I could ask you the same question. I’m skyping Erik before he goes to work.” His expression wilted a bit. “He’s having a hard time with the job search.”

Nicky met and was living with his boyfriend Erik in Germany before returning to the States to be with Andrew and Aaron. The original plan had been for Nicky to move back once they finished college, but when they did he insisted he couldn’t leave the twins. He was the only family they had besides each other. Andrew knew Nicky missed Erik more than he let on. Getting Erik to move to the States was indicator enough. Erik had a full, supportive family in Stuttgart, and Nicky loved it there.

Andrew figured he might as well bring up his news. “Renee’s lease on the apartment above The Foxtail is up soon. She’s moving in with Allison and offering the apartment to me and Neil.”

“Ooh, together?” Nicky wiggled his eyebrows. “Que cómodo.”

Andrew groaned. “Stop or I’m done talking to you about this.”

“Fine.” Nicky sighed. “That’s still exciting. Are you going to take it?”

“I don’t know. Neil might prefer living alone. And if I leave, you and Aaron would have to pay higher rent.” What Andrew didn’t say is that he would be leaving Aaron, even if it was just to live in a different building.

Nicky looked thoughtful. “Have you talked to him about it?”

Andrew and his twin had a complex relationship. They hadn’t known the other existed until high school and fought all through college though they hardly left each other’s side. They understood each other better now and both had their own lives, but the urge to stay together, to fight for the little piece of family they had cobbled together, never went away. Aaron had been with his girlfriend Katelyn for seven years. And though he spent every other night at her place, they still hadn’t officially moved in together. Andrew knew he was partly the reason why.

Andrew shrugged. “No point yet. Nothing’s been decided.”

“It might be good for him,” Nicky said, “and for you.”

“I didn’t ask.”

Nicky meant well, but Andrew was giving him a warning, not asking for his opinion on Andrew’s personal growth. Andrew started to get up.

“Andrew, wait.”

He faced his cousin.

“If you want to, I think you should go for it. As long as you promise to have us over for dinner every once in a while. Maybe once a week?” Nicky grinned sheepishly.

“More like once a month.”

“You have no sense of duty,” Nicky said, but it wasn’t funny and neither of them laughed. Andrew had nearly gone to jail defending Nicky from three drunk homophobes, would stay with Aaron as long as he needed to make up for what they’d lost. Nicky sighed and clasped his hands. “Aaron doesn’t need you to keep an eye on him anymore. You’re not letting him down if you don’t have the same address.”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who won’t go back to his boyfriend because he needs to babysit his twenty-five-year-old cousins.”

“Erik lives in Germany! That’s different.”

“Not that different.” Andrew stood. He’d had enough of this particular conversation. “I’ll keep you updated. Goodnight, Nicky.”

Andrew spent a long time looking at the plants he had brought into his room. He checked the succulents on the windowsill, the trailing branches of the climbers. Andrew had killed plenty of plants since he brought the first one in, but these he had grown from seed and cutting. Seeing them now gave Andrew a slice of satisfaction. The plants were getting too big for their containers. He’d probably need to do another round of repotting soon. They had moved when Andrew wasn’t looking, upward and outward, seeking the light, and now his room was thick with growth. He stopped at the orchid on his dresser, a light purple, soft, almost blue. Its twin was sitting on a nightstand somewhere across town, except Andrew had given Neil a white orchid. New beginnings.

Andrew had chosen Nicky and Aaron long ago. He’d promised his twin to never abandon him, and Nicky had done the same for them. Moving out wouldn’t break his promise. It wasn’t even a big deal on its own. But Andrew knew moving out would start a chain reaction and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face the aftermath.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Leah for the beta! ❤️

Mornings were the busiest time at The Foxtail, even on weekdays when fewer customers called and came into the shop.

Renee was back and checking the preparations for an upcoming event. The number of garlands, centerpieces, and arrangements this company thought was necessary for one afternoon reception was truly ludicrous, but Andrew had made everything to order. Renee looked over his work and then dismissed him. Out front, Neil had the phone crooked between his cheek and shoulder and doodled paw prints and flowers on a notepad.

“Yes. Yep. I understand that’s more than our usual rate but—no, sir, we don’t have double standards. You submitted a large order with very little time to complete it so the rates have to be adjusted accordingly.” He turned at Andrew’s presence and rolled his eyes. “I can lower your estimate if you’re willing to substitute in some less expensive flowers but we’ll still have to charge an elevated rate for overtime labor.”

Neil listened to the voice on the other end bluster and yell for a full minute, his bemused expression turning to frustration. “That’s patently untrue. I’m not the one trying to order a yacht full of expensive arrangements to try to make a shotgun wedding look more respectable, which, quite frankly, is a lost cause considering your color choices and the fact that you think a tacky ball-and-chain cake topper is a ‘cute touch.’ I hope you’re at least offering an open bar at the reception so your guests can get splintered enough to forget your mockery of a marriage ceremony.”

About five different reactions warred in Andrew’s head, and for a moment he thought it was going to split. This was the part of himself Neil kept hidden, the intensity beneath the guarded facade that made him strange and interesting, that made him act like successfully growing an orchid was akin to being elected to Congress. There was a little streak of something haughty, too, that Andrew hated and loved at once. Neil was flushed and alive and Andrew could kiss him.

Andrew was being almost as idiotic as Neil.

“Well congratulations and fuck you, too,” Neil said and slammed the phone.

“That was a colorful conversation,” Andrew said.

Neil lifted his chin. “He's an idiot. And he insulted us."

“And I’m sure your comments hurt his feelings real bad. Though I don’t think 'fuck you’ is part of the Foxtail ethos.”

“As if you’ve never insulted anyone while on the job.”

Not verbally. “I don’t care enough about anyone enough to spend time insulting them. They can pay a therapist if they want someone to identify their issues.”

“You insult me all the time.” Neil crossed his arms, and his expression turned mischievous. “Does that mean you care?”

“It means I’m trapped in this building with you for hours on end with nowhere else to channel my frustration.” And insulting Neil was Andrew’s only defense against Neil’s distracting face.

“Sure,” Neil said with half-grin. Andrew had half a mind to wipe it off for him, though he couldn’t decide on the exact method.

“I liked you better when you didn’t talk so much,” Andrew said and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“Smoke break,” Andrew shot back, “try not to use your fuckwords while I’m gone.” He strode out of the store and into the muggy heat of midmorning, the tinkle of the bell drowning out Neil’s half-hearted “screw you.”

Andrew’s head hurt and he lit up quickly, letting the nicotine ease the pounding in his skull. The harsh smoke in his throat grounded him and he let his surroundings take over his senses and thoughts for a little while. Thoughts of Neil slid through without inspection. It was as close to mindfulness as Andrew would ever get, though he’d never tell Bee that.

The humidity warmed him as he absorbed the sound of passing cars, the hum of the building’s air conditioner, the crunch of gravel under tires. The sun was softer behind his eyelids.

The bell interrupted his thoughts and he opened one eye to see Neil walking over to him. Neil leaned against the wall next to Andrew and breathed in deeply as if he enjoyed the smell of secondhand smoke. Most people weren’t fans.

Neil looked over to see Andrew staring at him and volunteered. “It reminds me of my mom.”

Andrew nodded and faced forward again. He took a drag and held it in his lungs, then released it just before they started to burn. He could feel Neil’s blue eyes on him still.

“What?”

Neil chewed his lip and faced forward. “Do you think Renee’s going to be mad? About the call, I mean.”

“Are you planning to call back and apologize?”

“No way,” Neil said, his jaw set stubbornly. “He was way out of line.”

Andrew rolled his eyes to distract from the feeling rising in his chest. “I am curious how you would react to Renee’s I’m-disappointed-in-you face, but no, I think we can afford to lose one asshole customer now that Renee’s screwing the landlord. One more thing to thank your bestie Allison for.”

Neil gave a quick laugh and relaxed, leaning his head against the brick. Unable to resist, Andrew turned to look. Neil was all golden somehow. The bronze skin, copper hair, long dark lashes resting against radiant skin, his strong nose. Andrew hated him.

“What I don’t get is why you care so much all of a sudden.” Andrew kept watching.

Neil’s eyes flicked open, his expression puzzled. “About my job?”

“About defending the honor of The Foxtail. Shitty customers badmouth us all the time. Doesn’t mean anything.”

Neil went quiet. “It means something to me. You and Renee are good people. You don’t deserve that.”

Andrew scoffed. “We don’t deserve anything, Neil. Renee and I are fucked up people playing at normal. The world’s a cruel place. Having a job at a flower shop doesn’t change that.”

“It’s not the world that’s cruel, it’s the people in it.” Neil turned to face Andrew. “And you’re not one of them.”

Andrew wanted to smile a knife, to scare Neil away, but his face wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, he spoke without emotion. “You might be the stupidest person I know.”

Neil shrugged. “Would you be willing to live with someone as stupid as me?”

Andrew froze halfway to dropping his cigarette.

“I talked to Renee about the upstairs apartment.” Neil looked uncomfortable. Little lines appeared in his face, forecasting future wrinkles. Andrew’s felt his pulse in his fingers as Neil continued. “I’d be willing to split the rent, unless you want to live there by yourself.”

“I don’t want anything.” Andrew had to remind himself, had to make sure Neil knew.

“Bullshit.”

Andrew wondered if Neil knew how compelling his nose was, the bold, straight line of it, the full mouth set underneath.

Neil sighed. “You make no sense.”

Andrew shrugged. It was probably for the best. “Glass houses, Neil. You were saying?”

“I was saying we could live together in the apartment. If you wa—if you’re okay with that.”

Andrew tapped a finger to his chin. He needed time to clear his head, but instead it was overrun with thoughts of Neil—Neil in the morning, tired and rumpled with sleep. Neil on the weekend, obsessing over his orchid or some soccer game or whatever lame shit passed for his hobbies. Neil after work, complaining animatedly to Andrew about whichever asshole customer had called up that day. Andrew could have those things— well, not have them, but he could see them every day. Be a part of Neil’s life even if it was just as witness to its chaos. He’d have to learn to let go if he didn’t want to wreck himself in the process. Andrew’s mind replayed his conversation with Nicky last night. He needed to let Nicky and Aaron go, too.

Andrew was just wasting time at this point. It was over the moment Neil opened his mouth to ask.

“Fine,” Andrew said. “Under one condition.”

“What?”

“No more lying.”

Neil’s cheeks took on a red hue. “Okay.” His voice was quiet.

“Okay,” Andrew said, finally crushing the cigarette. He needed a distraction, something to busy his mind from contemplating Neil hands, his mop of hair, the shape of his lips. “You’re not allergic to cats, are you?”

“Not that I know of. I’ve always wanted a cat, but I’ve never had one.”

“We’ll go to the shelter then.”

Neil broke out into a full smile and it was almost too much for Andrew to bare. He was so stupid. “Only if I can help you pick it out.”

“Pick out your own.”

“Okay,” Neil said, but it sounded like a lot more than okay. It sounded hopeful and pleased. Andrew let Neil’s smile work through him, let it settle him. He needed to get a grip.

“Go,” Andrew shooed him. “Tell Renee.”

Neil left and Andrew took a deep breath. He felt his heart rate begin to slow now that Neil was out of his face. Being around Neil was strange. He made Andrew feel at once as though he was experiencing the world through his body for the first time and as though Andrew were watching someone who looked like him and sounded like him interact with this man while the real Andrew watched from above battling his emotions. He had never been so sure he wanted to touch, to understand, to reassure. He had never felt so far from who he thought he was.

Andrew smoked another cigarette down to the filter. He had taken more than his allotted break time, but his equanimity had returned. Andrew wasn’t going to let his fascination with Neil ruin Neil’s chance for a new start and somewhere decent to live. Perhaps the exposure would cure him, or Neil would realize what was going on and kick Andrew out. This was going to end somehow. The doorbell greeted him as he went back inside.

Renee was pleased with their decision and volunteered to show them the place once Neil’s afternoon shift ended. Andrew knew Renee’s apartment well; he came over every week or two for a drink or coffee or dinner, but this would be his first visit as a future tenant, and with his soon-to-be housemate.

The day passed slowly. Only one or two customers came through the door. Neil grew antsy and kept flicking his eyes to the clock on the wall. He pestered Andrew with more questions than usual, apparently determined to have complete knowledge of plant growth and care by the time his shift ended. He asked questions about plants the store didn’t even carry.

“But could you grow zinnias inside if you wanted to?” Neil flicked through seed packets on a small display shelf.

“You can grow anything indoors if you try hard enough,” Andrew said. “I’m not Google.”

Neil nodded and kept moving, his energy quiet and intense.

Finally, Renee flipped the sign on the door to "closed" and taped a note up saying they’d be back in half an hour. Neil and Andrew followed her outside and clanged up the metal stairs to the apartment.

Renee had lived above The Foxtail for long as Andrew had worked for her. She had decorated the apartment with rugs and paintings in calming colors, filled out the shelves with pictures of friends, her adopted mother, and places she’d been. Andrew made an appearance in a few photos despite his dislike of having his picture taken. The apartment was a different place half-packed, Renee’s possessions pruned down to the furniture.

“Oh,” Neil said softly.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Renee said and motioned them toward the master bedroom. “It’s been a good home to me. I would be sad to leave, but—” she smiled, small and private. Andrew rolled his eyes for the millionth time at how disgustingly in love his best friend was. Renee offered to let Andrew and Neil keep most of the furniture—“Allison has more than enough for us”—and they agreed.

Renee pointed out the features of the bathroom, opened the closet. Andrew wouldn’t describe the apartment as “nice,” per se. It looked as old as Andrew’s house with his brother and cousin, probably built in the late 70s or early 80s. Some of the planning was tight or awkward, but Andrew liked living somewhere that had been around for a bit. It felt more permanent than the shiny new apartment complexes being thrown up around the college and in clusters downtown.

Andrew mostly watched Neil’s expression as Renee showed them around. His expression was complicated. There were traces of fear and grief, elation and disbelief. Neil caught Andrew looking as they moved to the other bedroom and bathroom. Andrew didn’t look away, just waited to see what would happen. Neil hesitated like he might say something, then looked away. Andrew continued waiting, but Neil didn’t look back at him again.

Renee concluded the tour with the living room and the kitchen. Electric stove, but Andrew could live with that. Neil had reset to his default expression, neutral with a touch of curiosity, and thanked Renee for the tour. Andrew was beginning to be able to read the lies there, and the shape of the truths hidden underneath them.

“I’ll miss having you over,” Renee said to Andrew as they went back down the stairs, letting Neil walk a good pace in front of them.

Andrew did his best imitation of Renee’s disappointed face. “Did you let Allison ban me from the house already? I’m surprised at you.”

“You know you’re more than welcome at the new place,” Renee said. “We’re going to have a mini-gym—including a spot for a mat. Nicer for sparring than Gold’s.” She lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

Andrew would absolutely be trying out their private gym, perhaps on a regular basis. “I’ll consider it if you let me break into Reynolds’ fancy booze stash.”

“All you have to do is ask. Allison loves to share.”

“You mean show off,” Andrew said. He’d been to several of Allison’s “kickbacks” despite his best efforts, and they were much fancier than an event of that name suggested.

“Maybe it’s both.”

“Reynolds is corrupting you.”

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Renee’s poker face was impeccable.

They caught up to Neil who waited by the shop door. Renee unlocked it and they followed him in. Neil grabbed his things from the back then vacillated between Renee and the door. He looked to Andrew for help, but Andrew offered him none. Watching Neil work through his issues was more entertaining.

Neil finally turned to Renee. “Thank you—for the apartment.” He sounded unsure, but Renee was already smiling gently.

“Of course. You’ll have to come over to the new place as soon as we’re all moved in.”

Neil nodded and made a hasty exit, his eyes flicking to Andrew for half a second as he pushed through the door.

Andrew knew Renee saw and was thankful she chose not to comment.

“I’m out of the shop for the rest of the day, but I’ll be back before you get off,” Renee said as she packed her things into a shoulder bag. “Stop by for a last dinner tonight?”

Andrew leaned against the counter. “You mean a last supper?”

“If you like.”

“Only if you promise not to betray me for thirty silvers.”

“Andrew Joseph Minyard, did you set me up for a Jesus joke?” Renee said, both exasperated and fond.

Now it was Andrew’s turn to put on a poker face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry updating took longer than I originally anticipated. Life got a bit wild, but we are now back to your regularly scheduled programming. ♥
> 
> Thank you to Leah and Lizzy for the excellent beta. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Andrew and Renee had first started eating dinner together at Renee’s place after a particularly grueling workday; they had delivered the arrangements for a large wedding that included fifteen bridesmaids and fifteen groomsmen, and took place in three separate rooms across two venues. When they had finished for the night, arrangements installed and bouquets and boutonnieres delivered, Renee had insisted Andrew come up for at least one drink. She had offered Andrew half her carton of ice cream and they shared it in exhausted silence. Renee was one of the few people Andrew knew who was good at silence, whose attention didn’t flit around nervously.

Ice cream at Renee’s became something of a tradition after they worked an event together. Andrew and Renee could each put away a good half-gallon of ice cream if the conditions were right. Andrew would shit-talk the crazies who hired them and Renee would speculate about their lives, concocting wild stories that usually involved the death of a wealthy relative. They were good at making each other laugh.

Then Andrew was staying for dinner for no reason at all and Renee started to provide real food. They talked. He badgered Renee about her dinner choices when she goaded him into eating some form of vegetable in order not to “shorten his lifespan.” Tonight, though, they returned to ice cream and wine, white and sweet on Andrew’s request.

He felt comfortable here, as comfortable as he could in any building someone called “home.” It smelled a bit different tonight, the dust having risen as Renee packed up her things, but the general smell of her remained, a pleasant mixture of soil and floral candles and spicy food. Renee’s friendship was a stable thing, and Andrew was, despite his disinclination to voice such things, grateful for it.

They raised their wine glasses, the swirling liquid bright in the light.

“To dumbshit customers,” Andrew said.

“To friendship,” Renee said.

They clinked glasses and drank. Renee’s smile was gentle and the corners of her eyes crinkled in happiness. Andrew maintained that no one deserved anything, but if it was anyone’s turn for happiness, it was Renee’s.

Andrew eventually had to refuse more ice cream. He was full to bursting on chocolate ganache. Renee chatted and he poured himself more wine.

“I’m glad you’re going to live here, Andrew. You deserve something good, something you want.”

Andrew felt vaguely annoyed with Renee for naming the thing so plainly, but neither of them watered down the truth. Better to face it and move on. That and Renee knew Andrew didn’t tolerate meddling.

Andrew ignored the last part of her comment. “Florist by day, security guard by night.”

“And I thank you for your services,” Renee said, then paused, reading Andrew’s face. “Allison told me something interesting about your future roommate.”

Andrew hummed into his glass.

“It seems like Neil is more like us than I originally thought.” She gestured between the two of them.

Andrew and Renee had both spent time in the foster system and seen their share of violence and cruelty. Renee’s past turned her to religion and gentleness, but she was still capable of a particular darkness, empty eyes and slitting a man lengthwise without flinching. It was why Andrew kept her around.

Andrew was still possessed of his own brand of violence. The knives under his armbands testified to it, though it had been a long time since he’d felt compelled to threaten anyone via blade. Andrew’s preferred coping mechanisms involved keeping the circle of people he cared for small enough to count on one hand. Neil, though, was still a bit of a mystery. Every once in a while his eyes would widen in panic like a deer in headlights, but he spent most of his energy chasing his horticultural dreams.

Renee continued. “You know just as well as I do that it helps to have someone around who understands.”

Andrew couldn’t deny that, but the idea of Allison pecking at Neil until he gave up his secrets ate at him. “Did you tell Allison to mind her own business?”

“She wasn’t prying, Andrew. They’re close.”

Andrew scoffed. “As if Allison didn’t try to set him up within three days of meeting him.”

“That’s how she shows she cares,” Renee’s voice was gentle. “You would know that if you let her spend more time with you.” She valiantly ignored Andrew’s scoff. “Anyway, this isn’t about Allison. It’s about Neil.”

“So you want me to, what, baby him?”

“Of course not. I’m just saying I can tell he’s interested in you—”

“Renee,” Andrew warned.

“I don’t mean romantically. I mean in general. You have the kind of life he wants—a steady job, expertise in something, a place of your own.”

“So? I don’t owe him anything.” Andrew’s voice was perhaps a bit harsher than he intended. Andrew and Renee were close, but she was the only one. Their relationship was defined. It had rules. At work, Renee was Andrew’s boss. At the gym, his sparring partner. Right now, well—she was his fellow ice cream eater.

“No,” she said, slowly. “But it never hurts to have someone to talk to.”

Andrew sighed, then spooned a mound of chocolate ice cream. The cold numbed the roof of his mouth and the rich flavor settled on the back of his tongue.

He hadn’t had anyone to talk to. He had dealt with his issues on his own, built his life on his own. Everything he had with Aaron and Nicky was an explicit choice Andrew made to bring them into his life and live with them, not some dramatic heart-to-heart revelation. The only person Andrew ever talked to about his old life was Bee. Renee understood Andrew on a cellular level. She should know it wasn’t his job to take care of every sad, blue-eyed kid who had it rough growing up.

“Yeah, he watches me like I’m his competitor on America’s Next Top Florist. It’s annoying.” Andrew took a sip of the wine and made a noise. Renee must have broken out the good stuff for their last meal. It was smooth and there was no faint burn of alcohol on the back of his throat.

“Annoying, huh? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you watching him back.” Renee arched an eyebrow.

“I’m making sure he doesn’t break anything.”

That, and looking was pointless. Neil didn’t date. He had said as much when a customer left his number on the back of a receipt and slid it to Neil before he left. Neil had thrown the piece of paper away as soon as he realized what it was.

“Not your type?” Andrew had asked casually.

“I just don’t understand it,” Neil had said and gestured to where the man had left the store. Andrew had given him a death stare and Neil quickly added, “Not being gay. I mean—I just don’t get dating in general. Leaving your number for other people, stuff like that. I guess I’m just...not interested.”

It was true, Andrew had never seen Neil look at another person with anything like romantic or sexual interest. And he certainly wasn’t going to look at Andrew that way. Pointless.

Andrew leveled his spoon at Renee. “I’ll never understand why you brought him on in the first place.”

“Same reason I brought you on,” Renee said and refilled her glass, allowing Andrew to change the subject.

“He has a degree in plant biology and experience working in greenhouses?”

“He likes plants, and he’ll be good at it.”

Neil had been learning quickly. Andrew was pretty sure his orchid wasn’t dead yet. “Not flower arrangements, though.”

Renee pursed her lips and fought to keep a grin off her face. “No, not flower arrangements…at least not for a while. Maybe he just needs more guidance.”

Andrew felt a smile tugging at his mouth. “Keep pushing me to be Neil’s little helper and I’ll set him on your wedding arrangements.”

Renee broke and laughed. “Allison would kill you both before I could get the chance.”

“Tell Reynolds to bring it on.”

“You’re such an asshole sometimes.”

“Is that the mouth you pray to Jesus with?”

“Sure is, and, hold on,” Renee a finger to her ear like she was listening to a hidden earpiece, “yeah, he agrees.”

Andrew sucked his spoon and popped it out of his mouth. He jabbed it at Renee. “Asshole.”

#

Andrew found Aaron in his room, scribbling something vaguely medical onto index cards. He wasn’t sure why Aaron bothered studying so much when the illegibility of his handwriting already qualified him to be a full-fledged doctor. Though his twin had been in the same room the entirety of the time they’d live at the house, the decor could hardly be called personal. Nicky had placed most of the family pictures on the wall. The room was mainly filled with books and a life-size model skeleton Nicky found at Goodwill and had thought would be hilarious.

Aaron turned at the sound of footsteps. “Now’s not a good time.” His stress was evident in the crease between his eyebrows and the smell of coffee that filled the space.

There was never going to be a good time for this so Andrew leaned his hip against the doorway and crossed his arms. “I’m moving out.”

He waited for his brother’s outrage, but Aaron just frowned. “Where to?”

“The apartment above The Foxtail. Renee’s moving in with Allison.”

Aaron grunted. He knew Renee through Andrew and had met Allison a few times but preferred to keep company with his friends from med school, not that Andrew cared. “When are you leaving?”

“Signed the papers this morning. I’ll be done moving everything by the end of the day.”

“I bet you’re happy to be on your own,” Aaron said with an edge of bitterness. It took everything in Andrew not to scoff. Even though they were identical twins, his brother really didn’t understand him at all.

“Not alone. Neil’s moving into the other bedroom.” Andrew’s arms tingled as he said it. It didn’t feel real.

“Oh. Are you two—?” Aaron was trying and failing to look unaffected by the idea of his brother dating someone.

“No.” Andrew’s voice was harsh.

“Jesus. I’m just asking,” Aaron said. “It’s not unheard of, you know.”

“Moving in with your significant other?” Andrew could laugh. “You wouldn’t know, would you?”

“No, shithead. Having one in the first place.”

This conversation was old, its insults familiar. Andrew would point out Aaron’s commitment issues. Aaron would imply Andrew was unable to maintain any sort of normal relationship. This was hardly the first time Andrew had been accused of being incapable of emotional intimacy.

He let the barb pass him by, not feeling its sting. “Your powers of prophecy continue to astound. Well, now you know.” Andrew turned on a heel.

“Wait, Andrew.”

He half-turned and for a moment Aaron looked the way he had when Andrew first met him in high school: young, alone, and out of his depth.

“What about me and Nicky?” Aaron said.

Andrew motioned for Aaron to explain.

“What will we do? Rent will go up and…” Aaron let the sentence hang in the air, but Andrew could piece together the rest. No one would be around, and Nicky wouldn’t have a purpose here anymore. Aaron would feel guilty Nicky sacrificed time with Erik for nothing. And Andrew wouldn’t care.

“You’re adults. Figure it out,” Andrew kept his voice flat. “Move in with Katelyn, for all I care. Let Nicky go back to Germany with Erik.”

“You can’t be serious,” Aaron said.

“I’m not in the business of forcing people to stay with me.” _Anymore_, he added to himself.

Aaron looked at Andrew like he didn’t know him. Andrew waited two seconds for a response and, when he didn’t get one, left.

He spent the rest of the day boxing up his things. Aaron hid in his room and avoided being in the kitchen at the same time as Andrew, but Andrew didn’t care. Now Aaron got to choose whether or not he wanted to be around Andrew, and this was his choice. Andrew would rather Aaron avoid Andrew of his own free will than stick around out of obligation. A small voice said that Nicky wasn’t sticking around out of obligation, but Andrew told that voice to shut it. Nicky’s job had long been over. It was time to let them both go.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Leah and Lizzy for the attentive beta. ♥
> 
> I fiddled around with this one for a long time because I wanted to get The Tone right. But it needed to get posted eventually so here we are! Enjoy. :)

Renee left only the furniture and a note on the fridge. _Welcome Home! Car keys are on the counter. Love, R._

Allison had offered to let Andrew use her hatchback since his things wouldn’t exactly fit in the Maserati. Andrew was surprised Allison had such a practical car; she loved to flaunt her fancy pink convertible.

“I’m gay, Andrew,” Allison said when she saw his face. “How else am I going to take my girlfriend on road trips to the mountains?”

“Drive your convertible to your daddy’s hotel?” Allison’s parents were the owners of a resort empire. They cut her off when she became a tattoo artist, but she had plenty of money to live off of by then.

“And contribute to the industry’s neo-imperialism problem?” She flicked her blonde coils over her shoulder. “No, thanks.” Andrew wasn’t sure if Renee was to blame for that one or not.

Andrew grabbed the keys and began the process of ferrying his boxes across town. Nicky had adopted most of the plants that were toxic to animals, and Andrew had left him with instructions and a threat not to let them die or else. But Andrew would be back to check on them because Nicky was, well, Nicky. The others Andrew planned to place on a floating shelf out of a potential cat’s reach.

The sun moved in, hot and heavy on Andrew’s back as he ferried his things up the stairs. He maneuvered through the main door, watching the ends of his lamps and only jamming his fingers against the edges of a wall or door frame two or three times. He had dropped off most of his things by noon but still no sign of Neil.

Andrew was on his way outside for a smoke break a few hours later when he saw Neil teetering a heavy box up the stairs. Andrew met Neil halfway and saw that patches of sweat bloomed on Neil’s white t-shirt: under his arms, on the collar right below the nape of his neck, in the small of his back. Andrew forced his gaze away.

“Give me that,” Andrew said and took the box from Neil’s arms.

“Thanks,” Neil said with a heavy breath.

When Andrew returned, Neil panted at the bottom of the stairs next to three more boxes, no car or helper in sight. As far as Andrew knew, Neil didn’t have a car.

“Neil. How did you get here?”

Neil picked up another box with a grunt. Neil was strong, not as strong as Andrew, but hardly anyone was. His arms flexed as he squatted, posture straight, the muscles taut in his calves and thighs.

“The bus,” Neil said. He puffed as he ascended the stairs, eyes focused on the steps in front of him.

Andrew imagined Neil getting on the bus, stacking his boxes and settling them around him on the bench seat, glaring anyone who got too close to his possessions. Hustling off, moving down the bus steps precariously. It was painful and for some reason Andrew was angry, angry, angry, the force of it squeezing his throat shut.

“The bus,” Andrew repeated and let derision leak into the words. “You are the stupidest human being I have ever had the misfortune of interacting with.”

Neil Josten was such a strange creature, surprising and unreal. And Andrew was drawn to him. Every day Neil did or said something terrible and incredible. Andrew chastised himself for not being able to resist, but he could only marvel.

Andrew didn't speak as they picked up the remaining boxes and hauled them to Neil’s new room. They finished a few minutes later and Andrew risked another look at Neil, the strange man who moved his boxes on public transport, now covered in a sheen of sweat, his chest moving in heavy gasps.

“Are there more?” Andrew asked and gestured to the boxes.

Neil shook his head. “That’s it.”

Another marvel. Andrew wanted to comb through the boxes, to archive Neil’s every possession, to figure out what it meant to own so few things. He wandered to the open box on the living room floor, the only one not sealed by interlocking flaps. The orchid stretched out from it, tall and somehow unharmed by its journey. Andrew suppressed an urge to lift the pot from the box and inspect it and instead ran a finger over its soft petals. Like Neil, the orchid was a wonder of survival, strange and beautiful.

Andrew returned to the kitchen and finished unpacking the last of his own things. He stacked the dishes on one side of the cupboard, leaving the other open for Neil, and nested the cutlery in its drawer.

What a strange way to live. At Andrew’s house with Nicky and Aaron, their things all mingled in with each other. Nicky had furnished the basics, and they accumulated the rest without thought to individual ownership. Now Andrew was standing in an apartment he rented in his own name, twenty-five years old, the owner of a full set of dinnerware for four. He couldn’t name the feeling in his gut.

Andrew’s bedroom was partly a recreation of the one he just left, though the bed was new and bigger, as was the room itself. He spread his plants out, opened the window, and let the room breathe. The outside air was hot and thick, and Andrew was still sweaty from moving the boxes, but the feel of the air on his skin was comforting, and the plants would appreciate it, too.

Andrew placed his own orchid on the wide dresser and organized his clothes. It didn’t take long. He didn’t tend to hoard except when it came to books. Andrew distributed them on the bedroom shelf and the living room built-ins, but his collection outstripped the available surface area. He remembered an empty stretch of wall in the hallway that could house a new shelf or two. The spot was out of direct sunlight but got enough light that Andrew wouldn't have to turn on the lamp to read the titles. For now, he stacked the extra books in horizontal piles against the wall. It was enough to know they would have a place soon.

When everything was neat—the comforter smoothed over the bed, the books in rows, the plants congregated in the best lighting—Andrew headed to the living room to...get a glass of water. To the kitchen, then. He was definitely not checking on Neil.

Andrew passed by Neil’s room on his way to the kitchen. Inside the open door, Neil sat cross-legged on the floor and stared at the open drawers of his dresser.

Neil had insisted on taking the smaller room since he didn’t have much (understatement of the year). Each drawer held only a few pieces of clothing, and Andrew’s eidetic memory rewound to his childhood. He saw himself moving from house to house, the totality of his things hanging over his shoulder in a black trash bag: clothes he had collected and would soon outgrow. It was another reminder that he was expendable, temporary.

Andrew stalked to the kitchen, anger and grief rising in him. He realized he was filling a glass on autopilot and forced himself to focus on his body, the cool glass against his fingertips, the water gurgling at a higher and higher pitch until it filled the glass, the thunk of the faucet as he turned off the tap. Andrew filled up another glass for Neil. He opened the cabinets and fridge for something to do with his hands. They gaped back, cavernous and empty. There was no way Andrew was going to abide by that sort of impermanence now, not from Neil. No way he would let it into his home.

Andrew returned to Neil’s room. Neil hadn’t moved, his chin propped on his fists, eyes glazed over. Andrew set the glass down on the dresser and made another note to himself to get coasters. The sound startled Neil out of his trance, and he tensed like a frightened rabbit. Andrew walked to the nightstand where Neil had set up the orchid. Andrew felt Neil’s ice-blue eyes track him as he moved. He examined the orchid, lifted a finger to the white petals, ran it down the stem, pushed against the soil which was soft and moist. Andrew grunted in approval and, when he could no longer avoid it, turned to meet Neil’s gaze.

He searched Andrew’s eyes for something, and Andrew let him look his fill.

“I’ve kept it alive,” Neil finally said.

“Congratulations.” He couldn’t guess what was on Neil’s mind. Neil was so verbose in the shop, flitting between the front and back rooms, interrogating every plant that had the misfortune to come under his scrutiny. Here, he was quiet. Andrew could appreciate quiet—preferred it in fact—but he hated the timbre of this one. It was like Neil had regressed back into the Neil that first started working at the Foxtail, like he was hiding.

“And now you’ve seen my wardrobe,” Neil said grandly, apparently recovered. He slammed the dresser drawers with a flourish and stood. “Thanks.” His voice was a bit quieter as he reached for the water and gulped it down.

“I’d already seen it,” Andrew said, tearing his gaze from Neil’s throat. “You’ve worn it all to the shop already.”

Half a grin waited at the corner of Neil’s mouth. He gave Andrew a once-over. “I guess you really do wear black all day, every day.”

“I suppose so,” Andrew said, too unsettled by Neil’s look to needle at him. He doesn’t mean it, Andrew reminded himself. He doesn’t look at anyone.

Neil had sprung back to life. He walked into the living room and ran bony knuckles over the spines of Andrew’s books. It was only once Nicky took custody of Andrew and Aaron that Andrew began to accumulate his current collection. At first, he had been precious about which books were worth keeping, a holdover from his upbringing. But Nicky had stayed, and after a couple years Andrew figured the books could stay, too.

He liked to read the canon, liked considering why a story was considered one of the greats, but Andrew’s favorites existed in the cracks between genres. He liked how they asked big questions, how they could never answer them. Andrew mostly ignored big questions. He’d been through hell and back and he wasn’t interested in a philosophy other than survive, keep his promises, live. But he also liked toying with the abstract, liked debate. That was another thing Renee was good for beyond sparring: talking about things on that level. They were both pragmatic by necessity, but still interested in the way things could be, and no one would hold them to their hypothetical philosophies.

Neil mouthed the names on the spines as he read them: _Tropic of Orange_ and _Parable of the Sower_, _Atonement_ and _The Left Hand of Darkness_. His mouth was a perfect thing. Andrew wanted to taste it, taste the scars on his knuckles.

Neil moved to the kitchen, peered into the cabinets. Andrew followed him as he went. They arrived at Andrew’s room and Neil squinted through the crack between the door and the frame. He leaned against the wall and turned a mischievous look on Andrew. “Can I look?” he asked.

Andrew took a steadying breath. “At what?”

“Your room.” There was no shame in Neil’s expression, no self-consciousness.

Andrew shrugged. “No one’s stopping you.”

It didn’t matter that this wasn’t sexual or that Neil was only looking out of bland interest. Letting another man into his room was a bad decision, one Andrew thought he was too smart to make anymore.

But Neil was Andrew’s roommate. He’d have to see Andrew’s room at some point, and Andrew had just invited himself into Neil’s. Breathe, Andrew, breathe.

Neil walked in and turned around a few times, eyes bouncing from the tv to the desk, the little plant stand. Andrew’s bedding was plain but comfortable, sleek blacks and purples. “I haven’t seen a lot of people’s homes,” he said, “or at least not from the inside.”

“I got that impression,” Andrew said.

Neil sighed. “I’ve never really had a roommate before. Not since—” Then Neil went quiet, red splotches high on his neck, as if he only then became aware of himself talking. He moved to Andrew’s open closet door, hovered his hand above the hanging clothes. “Can I?”

Andrew gave a nod and Neil parted the hangers, ran his hands across the fabric. He held the bottom of a shirt between a gentle thumb and forefinger, a deep crease between his eyebrows.

For a brief, hysterical moment, Andrew wanted to laugh at Neil, at himself, to laugh at this whole thing. How Neil acted and said however he felt, no matter how strange. Andrew wanted to laugh at all the jokes he could make about the closet and going in it and coming out of it, at the fact that he was watching Neil touch his clothes in his room right now. But Andrew couldn’t summon the energy or the ironic distance for even a chuckle. He was paralyzed with something he didn’t want to name, something he had denied for years now.

Neil continued his procession around Andrew’s room, read the spines of Andrew’s books, though he would never ask to borrow them. Neil was solving a puzzle, and Andrew was the one with the last piece. He knew so precisely what Neil was feeling and it clawed at him, threatened to reopen his wounds. So Andrew opened them himself.

“I was in the foster system,” he said, “until high school. I didn’t have anything either, only a garbage bag of clothes people had felt sorry enough to buy for me.”

Neil turned on Andrew in shocked silence, his hand dropping to his side.

“I wanted—” Andrew paused to collect himself. He had never articulated this to anyone but Bee, and only because she showed him how.

“I wanted a home and a family for so long, even though most of the people who took me in were awful. They wanted the money or someone to use. But I kept waiting, hoping for some sort of stability or...kindness. I nearly killed myself hoping.” His hand drifted to a black armband. “I had already given up when I met Aaron. Then Nicky showed up and we moved in with him.”

Andrew’s voice was low and tight. “You were right when you said that it’s people who are cruel. You and I both have the scars to prove it.” Neil’s jaw clenched. Andrew didn’t have to convince Neil. Neil already knew he was right. “People will always disappoint you. You’re never going to get your fairy tale ending and neither am I. And you’re not going to find what you’re looking for by scrambling to be someone else. Being good at your job isn’t going to make anyone want you.”

Neil fisted his hands. “What else am I supposed to do? You saw my room—everything I have. It’s not like I have another option. I have nothing. I am nothing.” The ache in Neil’s voice stoked Andrew’s rage.

He hooked a finger in the collar of Neil’s shirt. “So what?”

“What?” Neil's voice jumped an octave in confusion.

“So you’re nothing. Who cares? Who are you going to prove something to, the god of horticulture?”

Anger turned Neil’s eyes hard and cold. “So I should numb into apathy like you, then? Get an education and not use it? Stay in the same customer service job for years when I could be earning more money, meeting more people? Just because you had to check out of your own life to forget your past doesn’t mean I do.”

Andrew yanked Neil closer until he was speaking into the whorl of Neil’s ear. The smell of earth and sweet tingled in his nostrils. “Wrong on all counts, Neil. I haven’t forgotten a single detail. I notice everything, and I remember everything.”

Neil deflated and Andrew let him go. Neil started to speak, his features wrenched by regret. “I’m sor—”

“No.” Andrew pointed a finger at him. “Your words mean nothing.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Neil’s voice bordered on desperation.

“Accept that this is the card you’ve been dealt. You, Neil Josten, are nothing and no one.”

Neil’s eyes watered, defiance still etched in every angle of his body. “I can’t give up.”

“It’s not giving up,” Andrew said. “It’s understanding. If you accept what you are, you’re free to do whatever you want because no one is watching. Stop trying to earn a home and make one.” Andrew stepped closer to Neil, voice softening without his permission. “You’re so busy trying to put distance between yourself and your past...you can’t outrun it, Neil. Pick somewhere and choose to just...be.” He reached for Neil’s chin and forced Neil to look him full in the face. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Just be here. Stay.”

Andrew didn’t say “stay here,” or “just be with me,” but the words echoed in the air around them anyway. Emotion flashed over Neil’s face, hope and grief and frustration and longing. Andrew held tight to Neil’s chin. He wasn’t going to be like everyone else who had let Neil go.

Neil stared back for a silent minute, then two. His eyes were full of desperation: for Andrew to be right, for the chance to finally just be. Desperate for Andrew to forgive him for not being able to choose, to forgive him for never being able to settle, for knowing it wouldn’t be enough.

Andrew read it all. He dropped his hand. “Go, then. Get out of my sight.” His tone was flat and crisp.

Neil shrank back. “Andrew—”

“I told you. I don’t want your words. Leave.”

Neil turned and exited Andrew’s room. The door closed softly behind him. Andrew stood still and willed his mind as blank as the wall in front of him. Even when a minute later the front door closed with a final rattle and click. Andrew forced his mind to empty until his emotions settled back into the secret place behind his chest. Then he grabbed a pack of cigarettes and headed for the top of the stairs outside.

Andrew leaned against the railing and lit a cigarette. He took a drag then stomped it out. Lit another. Dropped another. The third cigarette stuck, and Andrew inhaled, held his breath until the smoke clawed at his lungs and his throat, until his eyes stung. Below, the town moved in slow trickles. Teenagers roamed the sidewalks in packs. Business-people in suits and slacks strode to their cars. Young women in workout clothes hustled to class and the grocery store and everywhere else. And behind it all, the constant rustle of grass blades and the quiet chirrup of insects hidden between them.

Andrew was emphatically alone. It was what he got for telling Neil to stay. Andrew had said he wasn’t going to do this anymore. Had told Aaron, even. And then Neil showed up with his sad story and his orchid and his empty dresser drawers, and Andrew let himself want. He’d learned a long time ago that wanting was pointless, that it only led to pain, but he wanted anyway.

The evening air clung to Andrew’s skin as he watched the sun fall heavy toward the horizon, rays of dying light still bright enough to blind. Andrew closed his eyes against the glare and wished it would wash him clean.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos always appreciated. I'd love to hear what you think :)
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @sapphicrenee.


End file.
